


The Mural

by TheTerrorDome



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Friendly banter, Henry is gonna have so many concussions, Murals, Painting, joeys only mentioned, sammy cant remember anything before the ink machine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-27 04:29:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20942288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTerrorDome/pseuds/TheTerrorDome
Summary: Sammy must show his devotion to Bendy after nearly sacrificing the creator. Deciding to create a mural, he misjudged how easy it would be to paint the ink demon.





	The Mural

**Author's Note:**

> The actual prompt is "Bendy Portraits as Royalty" but that's an awkward title. Day seven of inktober.

Finding a blank wall to work as his canvas had proven to be quite difficult. So many were splattered with that stupid humans’ writing. Sammy wanted to prove himself, show his dedication after the mishap of trying to sacrifice the Creator. He had been so foolish. Only Bendy could decide the fate of the human and who was Sammy to question his Lord? The ink demon would take the human when he so choice and Sammy just had to accept that. 

Sammy had to correct his transgression, however. A mural to his Lord seemed to be the perfect way to depict his devotion, and the others in the studio would be able to honor Bendy as well. He needed to find the perfect spot to paint. Sammy was no artist but he was the only prophet of Bendy he knew of, his Lord couldn’t exactly be picky with artistic renderings with the studio being so decrepit and most of the animators turned to lost ones. He scoured the halls of the Music department. If he could keep it with the rest of his work, that’d be preferable. 

Turning down the hall, he switched hands for the candlestick quickly melting in his fist. The wax was dripping down his inky flesh pulling ink down with it. Sammy had already written prophecies on many walls. He was beginning to regret all the random scribbles, a mural was much more appropriate than claims of faith. 

Sammy came upon a blank wall at the end of the hallway. Reaching into his pants pocket, he pulled out some paint brushes and crumpled up sheets of paper, sketches of Bendy’s original concept that had yellowed with age. He had collected them over time, making his way to the animation department and rummaging through drawers and desks. The original art was important, it was Bendy’s true form, the Creator’s original vision. He flattened out the pages carefully holding them up in front of the candle. 

Music and drawing were not similar in the slightest, but at least they were both art forms. Sammy held the paper flat against the wall and bent down, dipping the thicker brush into an ink puddle. Drawing couldn’t be that hard. Bendy was a beautiful creature, but still simple in design. He carefully pressed the brush bristles to the wall and began painting.

Hours must have gone by. The candle had melted away and he had to work in the dim light, not wanting to risk leaving his unfinished masterpiece. Painting was… harder than he anticipated. He couldn’t get the stupid head shape or horns right. And how was he supposed to fit the eyes and mouth in the head? How was he supposed to keep the eyes from coming out crooked? Why did Bendy keep coming out looking more like a tiny dog than the devil darling he was? 

Sammy dropped the brush to his side and groaned in frustration. He was making a fool of himself to his Lord. 

A tower of soup cans down the hall crashed to the floor and Sammy whirled around. He clenched his hands into fists nearly snapping the brush. “Can’t you see I’m working?!” he hollered, “Leave me alone!”

The stupid searchers and lost ones knew better than to disturb him. Especially when he was doing the good work of the Lord! 

A shadow disappeared back down the opposite hall. 

“Don’t come back until I’ve left,” Sammy snapped turning back to his work.

“And don’t touch the ink until it’s dry! If I see any smudges on the Ink Demon’s likeness I will hold you personally responsible!” 

The hall quieted. Sammy made a face. Maybe he should have seen if whoever had come was a former animator. He glanced back down the hall. Setting the brush and papers down softly, Sammy quietly stalked against the walls towards where the shadow had disappeared. Turning the corner, he picked up one of the soup cans, weighing it in his hand. If he got ‘em by surprise he could lug them back over and force them to help. He followed the shadow silently, finally getting closer as it stopped. An audio recording flowed down the hall. Sammy turned the corner and brought the can down as hard as he could on his prey’s head. It fell to the floor with a thud.

Looking down to inspect his work, Sammy grit his teeth.

“Fuck.” 

Sammy carried the human back to his spot. Leaving him unconscious in the halls seemed worse than forcing him to help. The searchers and lost ones and the damned angel didn’t listen to Sammy so it wasn’t like he could just tell them to leave the human till he woke up. Sammy propped him against the wall. Grabbing the brush he poked the human in the face. The human didn’t budge. He poked again, this time pushing the wood end of the brush against the human’s nose. Sammy scowled. 

He smacked the side of the human’s face, the ink on his hand sticking to the skin. Sammy recoiled, wiping his hand off on his trousers. 

“Wake up,” he snapped, poking the brush at the human.

The human stirred, groaning softly. His face scrunched up. Sammy crossed his arms over his chest, tapping his foot on the floor impatiently. 

Sitting up straight, the human looked up at Sammy with wide eyes.

“I’m not gonna hurt ya,” Sammy said, “as long as you help me.” 

The human’s gaze fell on the brush in Sammy’s hand. Sammy looked down at it as well. “Exactly,” he said, “you’re the creator, so you’re probably the best for this job.” 

Sammy grabbed the papers from off the floor and shoved the concept art in the human’s face. “Draw this.” Sammy pointed to the art of Bendy, then to the wall. “On there.” 

The human took the paper from Sammy.

“How is this still here? It must be over 30 years old?”

Sammy crosses his arms smuggly, leaning back. “I’ve taken good care of it. It hangs above the Bendy altar in my office,” Sammy said.

The human raised an eyebrow still looking at the sketch. “Why do you need it drawn here?” he asked slowly. 

Sammy turned to the wall outstretching his arms. “To show my devotion to our Lord! Everyone who passes will see his glory and recognize my undying loyalty!” He glowered at the current drawing on the wall. “Mine is rather… subpar, but you can fix that!” He crossed his arms again.

“Looks like you had a good start,” the human said.

“Don’t patronize me. It looks like something a child would want hung from a fridge.”

The human huffed out a laugh. “Well, wouldn’t it mean more coming from you, even if it does look like a child made it?”

“There’s no point honoring Bendy if it looks ridiculous,” Sammy snapped, “Now get painting. Like the picture I showed you.” 

Sammy shoved the brush into the human’s hand, pointing at the aged paper again. The human stood up, leaning against the wall for support. He pressed his lips into a thin line looking over the work Sammy had already done. “You’re sure you want me to paint over your’s?”

“I don’t want to see a remnant of that monstrosity when you’re done.”

With a short nod, the human got to work, painting out the concept art carefully, bending down to pick up the smaller brushes from time to time. 

“I thought this design was cuter for Bendy, but Joey always had final say on things like that,” he said softly.

Sammy’s gut tightened. Anger swelled up in him and he rested a hand over his chest. The human glanced over his shoulder. “You okay?”

Sammy looked down. Why did he feel so angry? He couldn’t remember. Everything felt so fuzzy from before and thinking about it formed a migraine in the back of Sammy’s skull. Clenching the fist over his chest, Sammy sucked in a deep breath. “‘M fine,” he muttered. 

They sat in silence, the human painting and Sammy watching him attentively. The human glanced down at the yellowed paper periodically. After a while, the human set down the brushes and stepped back. Handing the paper back to Sammy, the human studied his work. “So what do you think?” the human asked. “I haven’t drawn that little guy in so long.” 

Sammy rested his hands on top of his head and let out a puff. The painting was identical to the sketch. 

“It’s perfect,” Sammy said softly. 

The human nodded. 

Approaching the painting, Sammy folded up the sketch and put it in his pocket. “My Lord will be so pleased.” He hesitantly reached towards the wall but pulled his hand back. “I should stay with it. To make sure it stays safe,” Sammy said.

Another nod.

“So… I’m going to go now,” said the human.

Sammy didn’t respond. He stared at the mural, resting his hands on either side of it. Even if the creator painted it, he was the one who devised it. Everyone who passed would see Bendy’s perfect form and bask in the glory of the ink demon.


End file.
